


Choking On Ether

by laudanum_cafe



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Coma, Hiatus, M/M, Near Death Experience, Peterick, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-09 01:45:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6883933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laudanum_cafe/pseuds/laudanum_cafe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The band had just started a hiatus a few months ago so Patrick could “get his shit together” (as Joe and Andy so delicately put it). But instead of improving he was in the middle of a quick and steady decline. Andy told him last month that he looked like he already had one foot in the grave and Joe was terrified to even speak to him. He felt so alienated from the band and was convinced they were trying to sack him altogether and replace him with an actual singer. Throughout all of the struggle and turmoil Pete was always a constant; always there to offer words of encouragement, always there to hold him and kiss away the tears, always there to pick up the pieces…but Patrick’s demons kept telling him that even Pete was getting close to giving up on him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Choking On Ether

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome...I hope you all enjoy and please feel free to comment.

December 25th, 2009

 

Pete slowly awakens from the hazy land of sleep to greet Christmas morning with a smile. He reaches up to rub the sleep away from his eyes and turns around to wrap his arm around Patrick. His eyes shoot open when he finds that the other side of the bed is empty and cold and is overcome with the deafening sound of silence. He is immediately wide awake and at full alert. He has awakened to this type of silence before. It’s not the typical peaceful sort of quiet that any morning brings but one that immediately screams _something is wrong_. Pete jumps out of bed and runs out to the living area of his Chicago apartment.

 

Nothing.

 

He investigates each room. 

 

Nothing. 

 

Last night was a long one for Pete. Patrick had come over, blasted drunk and crying uncontrollably. The holidays have always been especially hard for the singer but he always made an effort to contact his family and do his best to keep up appearances. Apparently, his Christmas Eve phone call home did not end up going as well as he hoped. Pete did his best to comfort his best friend; holding him close and rubbing his back as the younger man balled his eyes out and yelled unintelligibly about what happened on the phone. Pete couldn’t really understand what he was saying but Patrick was too drunk to make much sense so he just did his best to comfort him. Patrick’s relationship with his family has always been strained and Pete was always there to help him through it. 

 

It was early, about 10:58pm when Patrick finally started to calm down and eventually pass out. Pete continued to hold Patrick close as they cuddled on the living room couch hopeful that his best friend would be able to get a full night’s rest before Christmas morning. After another hour, Pete collected Patrick in his arms and put him to bed.

 

But when he awoke the following morning, Patrick was nowhere to be found.

 

_Where the hell did he go off to? When did he leave?_

 

Pete took his phone from its charger and dialed Patrick’s number. No good, Pete could hear Patrick’s phone ringing from in between the cushions of the couch. _Fuck, he took off without his phone_.  Pete paced the length of his apartment while he reviewed several possible scenarios and deciding it would be best to head over to Patrick’s place. He quickly dressed and headed towards the front door when his phone rang. He put down his keys, pulled the phone from his back pocket and answered.

 

“Hello?” answered Pete.

 

“Hello, I’m looking for a Mr. Wentz, please.”

 

“This is him speaking. How can I help you?”

 

“Yes, hello sir. Do you know a gentleman by the name of…” there was some muffled sounds of a hand covering the receiver while the man seemed to speak to someone else. “Yes, sorry…do you know a gentleman named Patrick Stump?”

 

Pete closed his eyes and rubbed the lids with the fingers of his right hand. He was afraid of what the person on other line was about to say. It Christmas Day, for fuck’s sake…

 

Pete sighed, “Yes sir, I know him.”

 

“Ah okay. Yes well he…um…” the voice on the other end paused.

 

“Yes, yes…please, what is it?”

 

“Sorry. Uh, well…how do I say this…I found him a little while ago outside my front door. I live in the Annex Building on Main Street. He looked as if he was hurt and invited him in. He’s not making much sense but he was able to give me your name and number.”

 

Pete knew that building. It was a few blocks down the street and around the corner. “Yes, I know where your building is. I’m very sorry. I’ll be right there to collect him.”

 

Pete hung up the phone and ran out of his building.

 

***

 

An hour later, Patrick was sitting on Pete’s couch looking paler than usual and shaking. Pete brought him a cup of tea and a blanket and took a spot next to him. Patrick took a small sip of the warm beverage and placed it on the coffee table. Pete took Patrick’s hands and spoke.

 

“Patrick, please. You know what I’m going to say.”

 

Yeah, Patrick knew what was coming next. He closed his eyes and looked away shamefully.

 

“Here babe, look at me.” Pete placed a hand on Patrick’s chin and tilted the younger man’s head to face him.

 

Patrick kept his gaze fixed on the floor, ashamed to look his friend directly in the eyes. He was all too familiar with what Pete was going to say. It’s the same thing that’s been said for the last year. That he was out of control. That he needed help. That it couldn’t continue to go on like this.

 

The band had just started a hiatus a few months ago so Patrick could “get his shit together” (as Joe and Andy so delicately put it). But instead of improving he was in the middle of a quick and steady decline. Andy told him last month that he looked like he already had one foot in the grave and Joe was terrified to even speak to him. He felt so alienated from the band and was convinced they were trying to sack him altogether and replace him with an _actual_ singer. Throughout all of the struggle and turmoil Pete was always a constant; always there to offer words of encouragement, always there to hold him and kiss away the tears, always there to pick up the pieces…but Patrick’s demons kept telling him that even Pete was getting close to giving up on him.

 

“Trick, please listen to me. I’m not going to say the same old shit again. You’ve already heard it a hundred times from me and the rest of the guys. Look, we just want you to get better. Forget the band, forget the fans, forget the scene… _I_ need you to get better. You’re killing yourself like this and it’s killing me to watch you do this. Come on baby, look at me.”

 

The strawberry blonde vocalist reluctantly turned his head to meet the eyes of his best friend and soulmate.

 

Pete smiled and continued. “Look, we all care…especially me, you know. I know you think they want you out, but that’s not true. We really just want you to be okay.”

 

Patrick softened slightly at these words. Pete never lectured him like the others did. He was always gentle and understanding and so very patient.

 

“I know Pete. I want to get better, too. I just don’t know how. Everything just…it just hurts. It hurts so fucking bad and I don’t even know why!”

 

Patrick started to cry and Pete took him tight into his arms. “I know it’s hard for you, love. Trust me, I’m right here and I swear I’m not going anywhere. If the guys were to ever even _think_ about letting you go then I’d leave, too. I care too much about you Trick. Music doesn’t mean shit to me if I can’t share it with you. I promise, things will get better…just let me help you.”

 

At this point Pete’s emotions got the best of him and began to cry, startling Patrick. He’s seen Pete cry many times but he’s never been the cause of those tears. No one has cried like this for him before.

 

“Pete…I’m so sorry. I promise…I swear to you, I will try this time. I dunno how to do this but I’ll really try. Okay? Please, baby…please don’t cry.”

 

Pete looked at Patrick, wiping away the tears that were falling uncontrollably down his face and smiled.

 

“That is the best Christmas gift you could ever give me.”

 

***

 

January 1st, 2010

 

A week passed and Patrick was staying true to his word. The New Year’s Eve celebrations the night before were amazing. The entire band gathered at Pete’s place to watch the fireworks from the rooftop and it felt like old times again, back when the band first started in 2001. Joe and Andy were thrilled to see how well Patrick was looking. Just one week and Patrick was beginning to transform back into his old, healthy self. Pete couldn’t help but notice how attractive Patrick was with a few extra pounds on him. His skin was ruddy and smooth without the ever present dark circles as he was now sleeping well. The shakes were almost gone and he was smiling more. Pete sat off to the side sipping a champagne flute filled with sparkling apple juice which was being served in lieu of any alcoholic beverages and watched his band mates interact. They hadn’t all been this happy for quite a while.

 

This year was going to be the best year the band has ever had.

 

***

 

January 6th, 2010

 

Patrick stopped calling or visiting Pete a few days ago and he knew this was a very bad sign. For the past three days, Pete was constantly calling Patrick trying to get in touch with him and every time he rang the damned voicemail picked up…

 

_“Hey it’s Patrick. I’m not here…leave a message…”_

 

Pete had passed by Patrick’s apartment a few times using the spare key that he was given years ago. The place was empty each time he visited. He hoped that Patrick simply was out and about; visiting friends, maybe even recording some demos at their old studio. Wishful thinking…but Pete knew. He knew there was something wrong.

 

Today he had an especially bad feeling. Cold chills and dark shadows followed him everywhere he went. He had called the guys asking if they had heard from Patrick but they were all unaware of anything. They thought everything was going fine and had no idea their singer had gone missing a few days ago. Pete was reluctant to let the guys in on things earlier. Patrick was doing so well and he felt that somehow this was his fault. He should have been watching him more closely. He should have been prepared for a possible relapse. He should have…he should have…he should have…

 

Night was approaching and Pete decided to camp out on the living room couch with his phone on his lap just in case the guys called with any word on Trick. He was probably overreacting but just in case…

 

***

 

January 7th

 

_6:38 A.M.…Monday morning…bleary eyed and half asleep I’m already dreading the pending day and all the stresses and hassles that it typically brings…I always wonder how I’ll get through the day…but then I see your face and it makes everything all worthwhile…so I’ll try again…_

 

Buzz...buzz...buzz...

 

“Ugh, fuck off!” Pete yelled to the alarm clock going off in the bedroom. He was still half asleep on the living room couch, dreaming of songs. He stood up and walked towards the bedroom to address the culprit that was interrupting his dreams when it stopped. He looked at the alarm clock and noticed it wasn’t ringing after all. With a stretch and a yawn he headed over to the bathroom to take a quick shower.

 

The hot water ran over his face and relaxed his body. He was so tense this morning, partially due to stress and partially due to having falling asleep on the couch in a sitting position. He let his mind go blank and for a few moments he was able to escape the worry he had been experiencing these last few days. He remembered the song he was dreaming earlier and began singing.

 

Unable to hear due to the shower running and his singing, Pete's phone began to ring again.

 

_“’Yo, this is Peter Panda. I’m not in right now. Please leave a message…”_

 

Patrick hung up the cell phone for the second time that morning, this time he didn’t leave a message.

 

Where was Pete? He needed his best friend so badly right now. He was back after a short weekend visit to his family. He was feeling so good and wanted to show his parents and siblings how much better things were. He was only going to be away for a couple of days so he thought he need not bother telling the guys where he was off to. Besides, things were much better now. He didn’t need to check in with them.

 

However, the visit did not go as well as he hoped for…in fact it was downright horrible. His mother was a delight and so proud of her son, as most mothers are. But his father was a berating bastard to say the least.

 

“Oh, come on now ladyboy. Are you telling me you can't even have one little drink now? Oh, poor, poor little Patty. Buck up ya fairy. I didn’t raise no dandy boy.”

 

His brother was just as bad, taking a cue from his father and busting his chops like he did when they were boys.

 

“OH! Is that a little emo tear? Oh my I do believe you’ve hurt his feelings, Dad. Awww poor Pattycakes. Are ya cryin’ now. Big bad rockstar gonna cry? Hahaha!”

 

Patrick did his best to tolerate his family’s drunken rants but after a few hours being back home to the same verbal abuse he had suffered his entire life he decided to leave. With a kiss to his mom’s cheek and a middle finger to the rest of the Stump clan, Patrick headed straight to the pub across the street from his hotel room. He spent the rest of that day and the next getting real shit-faced wasted trying to numb the pain. He had no idea that a little visit to his family to say hello after the holidays would trigger a full blown meltdown.

 

On the morning of January 6th he managed to wake up sober enough to make the trip back home to his Chicago apartment where he holed up with several bottles of Jack Daniels and vodka. He still had some pain medication left over from when he had a minor surgical procedure and decided he needed those as well. He spent the rest of that night on his living room floor.

 

When he woke up he was still wasted and still miserable. Mr. Daniel’s was right there next to him and decided to start his day with another drink and four more painkillers. He was depressed and so lonely. He called Pete twice but there was no answer. Patrick figured his friend had probably had enough of him and was screening his calls. Pete always used to answer. But why would he want to take his calls now that he was being so pathetic? These thoughts only intensified Patrick’s anguish. He had no family, he had no friends and he was pretty sure the band was once again conspiring to fire him. What was the point? He figured he may as well end it now and save everyone the trouble of getting rid of him.

Patrick smiled at the morbid thought of dying and looked to the floor next to him where another full bottle of whiskey and half a bottle of codeine were.

 

_I’m doing fine…with just me and my wine…_

 

***

January 8th, 2010

 

Pete woke with a start just a few minutes after 3am that morning covered in sweat and his heart racing in fear. _Patrick was in trouble_. He threw on a pair of slacks and was about to run out the door when he noticed his phone was blinking with a voicemail notification.

 

_Oh my God…he called. He fucking called and I didn’t get it…_

 

Pete pressed the play button and what he was hearing was unintelligible but clearly a very intoxicated Patrick. Without listening to see if there were any other messages, Pete left his home and drove as fast as he could to Patrick’s place. Once he arrived, he ran to the entrance, fumbling for the house key on his set of keys.

 

“Come on, come, come on…”

 

With trembling hands, Pete tried to get the right key into the slot of the front door. His heart was pounding in his ears and time seemed to stand still. When he finally managed to get the door opened, he ran down the entrance way and into the living room.

 

Patrick was on the floor of the living room. He was unconscious and looked pale…almost blue. Pete dropped his keys and quickly placed his ear over Patrick’s mouth and realized he wasn’t breathing. He checked for a pulse. There wasn’t one.

 

“Oh no…no no no no no no no!”

 

Pete quickly shifted into auto pilot performing CPR and mouth to mouth, hoping to god he wasn’t too late. Minutes felt like hours as he continued to try and revive his best friend. Finally, after felt like an eternity, Patrick coughed. Pete scrambled to check his pulse; it was there but very faint. Patrick was still unconscious but at least he was breathing. Pete pulled his cell from his back pocket and quickly dialed 911.

 

Within minutes, emergency medical services were dispatched and inside Patrick’s apartment. Pete stood by helpless as he watched a team of medics work on his best friend. A police officer approached Pete and was asking him a million questions, all answered in a haze. The medical team was placing Patrick on a stretcher and taking him away.

 

“Wait! Where are you going? Is he okay? I’m coming with you!” Pete screamed as the medics left the entranceway. A female officer working with the response team quickly stopped Pete.

 

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to stay where you are. They are taking your friend to hospital. Please, they are working to stabilize him. You can head over there later but we need to ask you some more questions.

 

Deep in shock, Pete did as he was told.

 

 

***

 

January 12th, 2010

 

For the last few days, Pete maintained a bedside vigil in a hospital chair next to Patrick’s bed. Since his admission, Patrick remained in a coma. The doctors were unsure when he would regain consciousness but felt fairly confident that he had not sustained any brain damage. They said his vitals were stable and tried their best to assure Pete that all was going as well as could be expected considering the circumstances. Pete rode to the hospital after the police officers finished their questioning and remained at Patrick’s side. The morning after the accident, Pete called the guys and told them what had happened. They all came to the hospital room within hours of receiving the news. The last time all four members of Fall Out Boy were together, they were on the roof of Pete's apartment celebrating New Year’s. Pete reflected back to that night and remembered how he was so sure that Patrick’s recovery would be long lasting. Everything was so perfect that night. Trick was more sociable and he looked healthy and happy. The last thing anyone would have predicted is that only a week later the same person would be in the hospital lying unconscious from a drug and alcohol overdose.

 

Pete kept the guys updated on a daily basis. After the doctors did their morning rounds he would contact each of his band mates and give them the details from that morning’s visit. Usually they would come by the hospital in the evenings; as much to see Patrick as they were to make sure Pete was doing well. Joe could see that the stress and worry was taking its toll and did his best to play cheerleader when he came to visit. Andy tried several times to convince Pete to go home and rest, promising he would stay with Patrick but Pete adamantly refused to leave.

 

***

 

January 14th

 

Andy was just arriving to the hospital to pay Patrick (and Pete) his daily visit. As he entered room 1009, he found Pete fast asleep, his head lying next to Patrick’s right arm. Andy quietly closed the door behind him taking great care not to make a sound. Aside from the steady beeping of the medical machinery the room was completely still and quiet. He stood in the doorway taking everything in. There, lying in front of him were his two bandmates, both looking helpless and frail. For a moment he considered leaving. He was sure this was probably one of the few chances Pete had at taking a nap and didn’t want to wake him. Deciding it was best to leave Andy turned to the door but stopped. The room was freezing cold and Pete was still wearing the thin tank top he had on the night of the incident. Seeing a spare blanket draped over the edge of a chair, Andy decided to first wrap his friend’s shoulders with it to keep warm. Though he took great care not to stir his sleeping friend, Pete woke with a start grabbing Patrick’s hand in the process.

 

“Hey buddy. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Andy whispered to Pete.

 

Still clutching Patrick’s hand, Pete rubbed his face with the other and tried to focus on Andy.

 

“Oh, hey Andy. Sorry…I must have nodded off for a sec. How long have you been here?”

 

Andy watched as Pete reluctantly let go of Patrick’s hand and instantly felt an overwhelming wave of sympathy for his bassist. Pete appeared to have aged almost an entire ten years in the past few days. He wasn’t eating or sleeping and refused all offers for someone else to sit watch so he could take some rest. Andy couldn’t help but be filled with a wave of anger as he watched Pete try to shake the last vestiges of sleep off. In Andy’s mind, if Patrick hadn’t been so selfish then Pete wouldn’t be suffering like he is. It was difficult to acknowledge these feelings and Andy felt guilty that he did.

 

“Don’t worry, I just got here. I was trying my best not to wake ya.” Andy met Pete’s eyes and was again pained by how tired he appeared.

 

“Look Pete, please…why don’t you just go home for a while? You really can’t keep doing this to yourself. You look like you haven’t slept in days. I promise, I’ll keep an eye on Trick and call you if anything happens.”

 

Pete shook his head indicating a negative response. “I appreciate it Andy, but I can’t leave. I have to be here. I…” Pete trailed off not finishing his statement.

 

Andy waited for Pete to collect his thoughts and finish his sentence. Pete’s gaze drifted off to the corner of the room but his eyes were blank. In Pete's mind, thoughts were racing. Andy, knowing that Pete was exhausted, didn’t press him to finish. Instead he pulled a spare chair next to Pete and sat down.

 

“They say I saved him you know…” Pete started but again trailed off. He put his head down the bed next to Patrick and continued.

 

“The doctors…they all keep telling me if it wasn’t for me he wouldn’t be here. They say I saved his life. They say if I had arrived just a few minutes later he wouldn’t have made it. The nurses…they keep telling me that…like it’s supposed to cheer me up or something.”

 

Andy reached out and patted Pete’s back. “You did, man. You saved him. You’re a hero.”

 

At that statement Pete whipped around and faced Andy. His eyes were bloodshot red and he had a look of anger that took Andy off guard.

 

“Saved him? _Saved him?_ I’m the fucking reason he’s here in the first place! I should never have left him alone …not when he was so raw. I justified it by telling myself I was allowing him some space but really…it was for my own benefit. I was being selfish. I was afraid if he came to stay with me that it would cramp my style. I should have asked him to move in. I should have been there keeping an eye on him. But instead I leave him alone in that lonely ass apartment of his to fight his demons by himself. I neglected him, Andy. The night this happened he had called me but I didn’t get it. He needed me, Andy…and I wasn’t there. Don’t you see…this entire thing is my fault?” Pete buried his face in his hands and was still. Andy was shocked at the outburst.

 

Apprehensively, Andy reached out and softly patted Pete’s back.

 

“Pete, none of this is your fault. There was nothing you could have done. You had no idea things were headed in this direction. We all thought things were going perfectly fine.”

 

Pete lifted his head and looked at Andy.

 

“No, you don’t understand. I’m the only one that could have helped him. There’s so much of Patrick he won’t show to anyone but me. I let him down and now he’s here.”

 

“Pete you are completely wrong. Look, you have been up for days and you need a break. Why don’t you go home and rest for a while? I’ll stay right here and call you if anything changes. Come on, go get something to eat, take a nice hot shower and rest for a few hours.”

 

“I appreciate it Andy but there’s no way I’m leaving until Trick wakes up. I know you mean well and all and I greatly appreciate you caring for me but you have to understand that I’m not going anywhere.”

 

“Okay, okay…I understand. How about going to get a bite to eat or grab some coffee from the cafeteria. That’s sure to make you feel better and give you a bit of energy.”

 

“Yeah that sounds pretty good. I could use some coffee. I’ll be right back. I promise not to take long. You want anything while I’m down there?”

 

“Nah, I’m fine, Pete. You go ahead, I’ll stay right here. Take as long as you want. Don’t worry about a thing.”

 

Pete smiled gratefully at Andy and headed out to the cafeteria.

 

Andy returned the spare chair to its place in the corner of the room and took Pete’s newly vacated seat next to Patrick’s bed. His eyes went from the closed curtains of the window, to the medical machinery and finally to the still form lying in the bed. Patrick looked so slight and frail in that hospital bed. It was so unlike how he usually appeared. On stage he was a god; dashing from side to side, swinging his guitar and stomping his feet in time to the music. Here, in this hospital bed, he was mortal…and a sick one at that. Andy placed his hand over Patrick’s and felt that uncontrollable wave of resentment wash towards him once again.

 

***

 

January 18th

 

_Pete drove down Loxley Road to the entrance of Wisewood Cemetery on an unusually cold January afternoon. Despite the chill, the sun was shining and the sky was clear; a rarity during this time of year in Chicago. As he passed the entrance gates and followed the fork in the road to the left, Pete tried his best to mentally and emotionally prepare himself for the visit to his best friend’s grave. He remembered back to the last time he heard from Patrick; a garbled message left on his voicemail. That would be the last sound he would ever hear from him. He had yet to delete the message and found himself re-playing it over and over as some form of punishment for not being there the night he called. This regret would haunt him for eternity._

_Pete followed the Y- shaped curve down Loxley and rolled down the window to make sure he didn’t pass the grave site. He knew the plot was a few rows from the road but wasn’t sure exactly how far in. After driving down a bit he located the area. Pete parked his car on the curb and walked across a few rows until he found the marker. Kneeling down into the ground before it, he read the inscription:_

_A SWAN SONG_

_In Memory of_

_PATRICK MARTIN STUMP_

_A DEARLY LOVED SON AND FRIEND_

_WHO DIED 8TH OF JAN. 2010,_

_AGED 25 YEARS._

_MEMORIES ARE TREASURES,_

_FRAGRANT AND SWEET,_

_TO CHERISH, TO HOLD,_

_FOREVER TO KEEP._

_As much as tried to prepare himself, seeing the burial plot for the first time finally made reality sink in. His best friend was dead and he would never see him again. The tears welled up and fell freely down his face as he said a silent prayer for his mate. Pete stayed there, kneeling in front of Patrick’s grave for an hour. When he finally found the strength to move, he laid the bouquet of flowers on the mound and said goodbye._

 

When Pete started to wake from his nap he found there were fresh tears running down his face. As he opened his eyes and saw his surroundings he realized that it was just a dream. He closed his eyes once again, relieved that the nightmare was over but not yet wanting to wake to the reality that was. Pete remained with his head on the bed and staring at the wall as the last horrifying vestiges of the dream began to fall away. When he finally began to stir, he felt a pressure on the back of his head. He lifted his head entirely and saw that the pressure was Patrick’s hand resting on the back of his head. Pete looked up to the face of his friend and saw he was awake and smiling at him. Fresh tears began to well up as he stood there looking at Patrick.

 

“Hey Petey,” Patrick stated wearily. “You look like hell. What’s going on?”

 

“We almost lost you this time. But everything is going to be okay. I promise.”

 

Pete very carefully hugged his best friend as his body shook with the force of his tears.


End file.
